


The Core of Pete Sweet

by kateyboosh



Category: The Mighty Boosh RPF
Genre: Crack, Dedicated to his craft Julian, Extremely dedicated, Gratuitous descriptions of dedication, It's just a silly little short!, M/M, Sleepy Noel, Stuff other than dedication happens, The pure definition of dedicated, They're both dedicated by the end, Very dedicated, anyway, this is normal
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-18
Updated: 2020-12-18
Packaged: 2021-03-11 00:07:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,793
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28015956
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kateyboosh/pseuds/kateyboosh
Summary: Julian takes proper rehearsal for Sweet very, very seriously. Noel just wants a nap, but... you know.A little Sweet-themed shortfic for Terrantalen to kick off the Crackmas sampler of gift fic.
Relationships: Julian Barratt/Noel Fielding
Comments: 6
Kudos: 10
Collections: Trash Triplets Crackmas 2020: It's All About Range





	The Core of Pete Sweet

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Terrantalen](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Terrantalen/gifts).



They’re flopped on the floor in the front room with their scripts, telly buzzing away in the background, two cups of tea cooling on the table in front of the sofa. Noel flips onto his stomach and lays his cheek down on the soft, worn pile of the carpet. He heaves a sigh and tucks the script under his head like a dogeared pillow, stretching his arms out over his head. His hands leave trailed little prints in the carpet like the wings of a dozing snow angel.

“I’m done in,” he breathes, his eyes dropping shut. “No more words today, okay, Ju’n?”

Julian shuffles his copy of the script to the end. Granted, it’s just a few pages long, more of a detailed pamphlet than a traditional script, but in his considered, practiced, mature opinion, running lines is a task best accomplished in full. Julian grins. _Especially_ with this ending. 

He reaches out and ruffles Noel’s hair until he squirms away, turning his face to bury it in the crook of his arm. Noel makes a squeaky, annoyed noise, close to what he actually sounds like when he’s asleep.

“Come on, not much more to go now,” Julian says, and Noel worms away further.

“Uh uh.” He crushes his cheek into the script, nuzzling against the paper. “Gonna learn it this way. It c’n filter in and I’ll wake up and know the whole thing.”

“Doesn’t happen like that,” Julian chuckles, and Noel groans. “Trust me, I know. I used to put them under my pillow the night before auditions. I can promise that didn’t turn out the way I wanted it to.” He clears his throat. “Couldn’t remember any of the lines, did tell some very nice casting agents about the dream I had the night before instead.”

Noel hums. “The naked one? Was it at the village fete or the hardware store that time?”

“Neither,” Julian responds. “The one at the reading room in the British Library.”

“Right,” Noel nods, the front page of his script crinkling under his cheek. “Bare-arsed and asking the nice lady at the desk for the Rimbaud anthology while all of your grammar school teachers, that girl you used to fancy, and your childhood dog looked on.” 

“Yep,” says Julian. “Believe it or not, they didn’t ask me back for a second audition.” 

Noel giggles and stretches out against the carpet, then props himself up on his elbows. “Alright, fine, go on, then. Tell me where to start.”

Julian smooths the page of the script out. “Page six, from the top. ‘I was gutted… and it was all down to Stitch.’”

*

Later on, approximately 21 minutes and 28 seconds later on, when they’ve made it through the script twice, they take a break.

Noel washes his face and brushes his teeth and nicks Julian’s favorite t-shirt, the one he knows Julian likes to sleep in, his little blue pants peeking out from under the hem when he pads back into the front room without his flares on.

Julian _was_ going to suggest a third runthrough, third time being the charm and all, but he’s had a very long, very hard...

... think. Yes, a _very_ long, _very_ hard think about things, and there are other, more important... _things_ to address.

Serious things. Things like philosophies about dedication to the craft. Things like elephant thongs, bare arses pumping into the air, wrists gripping bedframes, little moans and pants and whimpers and-

Nope, Julian’s getting ahead of himself. 

He clears his throat as Noel curls up on the sofa next to him. “You know that it’s very important to take acting roles seriously, right?” he says, possibly before Noel’s arse even makes contact with the cushion.

Noel shoots him a confused look and tucks his legs underneath him. He’s read through the script, he knows most of his lines in the right order, he was born to play Pete Sweet, with his funky flat and his cute, wiggly puppies and his dance that just happens to look a lot like Noel’s dance, and his elephant thong that just happens to look a lot like Noel’s elephant thong.

“What d’you mean? I am taking it seriously! I’ve read through the script, I know my lines! Well... I know most of my lines.” _And in the right order_.

Julian steeples his fingers together. “The importance of a thorough rehearsal is not to be underestimated,” he says, and Noel nods slowly.

“Yeah... right... I’m not seeing the point you’re trying to make here.”

“Practice is key,” Julian says. “Practicing all elements. With careful, enlightened practice. So you can improve your overall performance of these elements. Carefully. With enlightenment.”

Julian raises his eyebrows and grins at him.

Noel blinks back. “Alright. Are you okay, Julian?” He leans in conspiratorially. “Did you accident’ly drink the paint water instead of the tea again while I was brushing my teeth?”

This time, Julian’s the one shooting him a look. He grabs Noel’s hand and pulls him off of the sofa. “Come on, it’s time to practice.”

Noel squeaks as he gets lifted onto his feet. He follows Julian down the hall into the bedroom, Julian mumbling something about “action, not words” the entire way.

Noel yawns. He’s not completely sure what Julian means, but at least he’s getting closer to the bed and closer to getting to go to sleep.

*

Julian deposits Noel on the foot of the bed and cracks his knuckles.

“Okay, time to practice. You’re Pete, I’m Stitch.”

Noel rolls his eyes.

“Obviously. Do we have to do this now? I really am sleepy-”

“It’s the penultimate scene,” Julian enthuses. He spreads his hands wide. “Pete’s just stormed through the doors of the pub, he’s popped Stitch in the face, he’s kicked him, out he’s gone, blasting through like a hurricane in a shag cut and flared trousers. He’s full of energy, crackling full of energy, he’s charged up!” Julian swings and kicks at all the appropriate moments, hopping around like a juiced-up pugilist.

“Are you sure you don’t wanna be Pete in this one?” Noel asks, sliding up to the head of the bed.

He fluffs a pillow as Julian frowns at him. “No, I’m definitely Stitch.” He bounces once more, then mimes pulling himself up from the pub floor, shaking his head and clutching his ribs. “Oh, the agony, the agony of being hurt by the one you secretly love most,” he laments.

“Mmm, ‘s a right shame,” Noel hums, slipping under the covers and reaching for the switch to shut off the lamp.

“Stitch has been holding a secret inside, see?” Julian says. “Really, Stitch fancies Pete, right? They meet at the park soon after the scene in the pub. Pete’s carrying Stitch’s parka. He’s ready to fling it back at Stitch, stomp on it like he’s stomped on Stitch’s ribs. Stitch is cut up, he’s tormented, he needs to confess his love. He flings himself to his knees, and-”

“That’s not in the script, Ju’n,” Noel mumbles, the duvet firmly over his head.

“Shhh,” Julian says, scowling at the Noel-shaped lump underneath the bundle of blankets on the bed. “It’s called backstory. Anyway, Stitch makes his confession, Pete’s enamored with him, they ride back to Pete’s flat on his scooter. They barely make it upstairs to Pete’s bedroom-”

“That actually might be in the script,” Noel says, flopping to the other side of the pillow to get comfortable. 

“Exactly,” Julian says. “Now you’re getting into the spirit! They strip down, they fall into bed, Pete’s still wearing his crash helmet-”

“Definitely in the script,” Noel says, shimmying his shoulders against the pillow, lifting his head up to give it a little punch before lying back down.

“Correct,” Julian says. “Exactly right.” He goes quiet for a moment, and Noel thinks he might have tired himself out and fallen asleep standing up.

When he peeks an eye open, Julian’s standing by the side of the bed, grinning. He’s holding a crash helmet, a bottle of Jack, and a large tube of lube, and wearing nothing except nipple clamps.

“We’ve set the scene. Now, all that’s left to do is practice,” he enthuses.

Noel blinks. Even if he’s sleepy, his cock is suddenly wide awake.

“But, Ju, they’re... We’re... Ummm. They’re not going to actually _film us_ -”

“Come on,” Julian says, motioning for Noel to scoot over. He doesn’t, and Julian thunks the helmet down on his head as he climbs over Noel instead. “Weaving a rich tapestry of backstory is important, especially for a short film like this. It’ll help you develop the mindset of your character, connect to the audience, really flesh Pete Sweet out. ”

Julian’s somehow managed to get underneath the covers at the same time he’s gotten a lube-slicked hand down Noel’s pants. “Help flesh him out!” Noel squawks.

“Maybe not,” Julian growls. “Doesn’t seem like you need much assistance in that department.”

Noel giggles. He shuffles his pants off, spreads his legs, and tugs at the chain running across Julian’s chest.

Julian’s right, of course. Developing backstory and learning all the elements of a character are essential, and practice is indeed key.

So much so that Noel suggests a second session after the first, so they can both really get a sense of their characters. Both sessions run longer than ten minutes and forty-four seconds, but the two of them are nothing if not thorough and dedicated to mastering their craft.

Noel finds the pillow’s a lot more comfortable with the padding of the crash helmet, too. Helps to block out all the sharp corners of the scripts Julian has stashed under there.

*

Julian clears his throat. He takes a swig from the bottle of Jack and taps Noel on his helmeted head.

“Aren’t you glad you heeded my advice? Really helped you get to the core of Pete Sweet, didn’t it?”

Noel grins.

“Really helped _you_ get to the core of Pete Sweet, more like."

Julian smirks back at him. His face shifts from smug satisfaction to musing. He sets the bottle of Jack down on the bedside table and runs his hand over his face.

“That was a good exploration of Pete-”

“Good?” Noel squeaks. He pulls his helmet off and lets it flop onto the floor by the bed. “I think you’ll find that was an award-winning performance by Pete.”

Julian nods. “Both of them, definitely. Still, I feel like I need more clarification - more backstory - on Stitch. Who is he? What motivates him?”

Noel’s hand slips down Julian's chest, his stomach, down, down, down....

“Hmm,” Julian muses. “Yeah, that’s pretty motivating.”

He only laughs a little bit as Noel elephant trumpets in triumph.

*

Needless to say, they both ace the audition.


End file.
